


Chasing Stars

by FreckledDragon



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adolescence, Angst, Depression, Growing Up, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, life - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:25:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3355814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledDragon/pseuds/FreckledDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Trigger warning: Suicide<br/>Just a random short-story I wrote on the road. Un edited, so I apologise for the mistakes that are bound to be there :-)<br/>Feel free to leave a comment, voicing your opinion :-)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Chasing Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: Suicide  
> Just a random short-story I wrote on the road. Un edited, so I apologise for the mistakes that are bound to be there :-)  
> Feel free to leave a comment, voicing your opinion :-)

When he first exits his protecting shell of warmth, the first thing he notices are the adorning lights decorating the sky. He watches the nearly blinding lights sparkle in pride and instantly wonders under their significant greatness. The first thing that comes in mind, when studying the beautiful wonders, is: _I want to join them._

He spends his life as the others of his kind. He eats, sleeps, and avoids being eaten, patiently waiting for his time of glory. During his time of insignificance he continues to strive for his place among the, what he has now learned is called, stars. His family thinks of him as delusional and keeps denying his chance of ever joining the pride of nature itself; though their harsh comments and distrust in him is hurtful beyond measure, he takes comfort in his childhood friend, who believes strongly in him. Their first meeting is blurred for the little dreamer, since they have literally been together since birth. A world without the other is unimaginable.

His childhood passes by quickly. He dreams, plays with his best friend, and avoids snarky remarks from his family, patiently waiting for his time of glory. He is trapped between the lines of being excited and scared when the time for the Changing comes. His friend assures him, they'll meet again on the other side, and the promise of being together comforts him prior to the expectations from his family. He has seen his brothers and sisters going through the Changing, all of them turning beautiful and bright, all of them successful in their lives. Though his family is supportive of whatever he becomes, he senses the hidden expectations behind the facade, and stresses in his hopes of becoming the same species as his kin.

The Changing is nothing like he imagined. He stresses, wonders about meaning, and tries to avoid the feeling of not being good enough, still waiting for his time of glory. During the Changing, he is restrained from communication with others, focusing on himself and his upbringing. This is the time to determine who he is, what he is, and what he wants to be. The process is agonising beyond measure, stressful beyond imagination and lonely beyond right. His only comfort is the cocoon next to him, in which he knows his best friend lies, going through the same things as him. It will soon be the time of breaking through the barrier of childhood and stepping in to the adult age. He has not found peace within himself, but he is sure to have success, even if he does not believe it himself yet. He takes a deep breath; he escapes. The world revolves around him for a second while he takes it all in. He rebirths and just like before, the stars are there to welcome him to his new life. He greets them with a smile, thinking that maybe life wouldn't be so bad after all. Beside him, his friend stirs, readying to break through. He waits for a while, wanting to be the first to greet his friend in their new life. The other doesn't come out though, so he realises he might need a little more time. With an eager mind, he hurries home, impatientlywanting to know, which species he has become. His family greets him with open arms; by the look of their joyous faces, he has become a red-winged lace-butterfly, just like his kin. The relief is overwhelming.

Life of an adult is different but strangely satisfying. He works hard, becomes independent, avoids the feeling of longing for his best friend who has yet to come out, knowing his time of glory is getting closer each day. It is not atypical for caterpillars to take their time; not all from his generation has come out yet. It is not weird for his considering, thinking-through friend wanting to be certain, so he is not worried. He spends his days forgetting little after little about his friend, meeting other at his age and socialising with them, though never completely forgetting the other. Even though in his short life he had experienced a lot of hardship, separation and roughness, he is stoic in pursuing his dream, taking comfort in his other friends. Life is going well. Or it was.

It is a day like the rest, nothing abnormal. He wakes up, goes to work, avoids the nagging feeling in his gut, patiently waiting for his time of glory. Someone contacts him, urges him to fly to the cocoons as soon as possible. It is during an important project, supposed to lead him closer to the stars. He says _just five minutes more_ until the project is done, and the stars are glowing outside. He remembers the contact, the nagging feeling returning to his stomach, but his mind is filled with _how bad can it be_ s. Just how bad it is, is clear to him when the hoard of butterflies appear in his vision. His speed increases; the crowd lets him pass and soon he stands before the open cocoon next to his own.

It cannot be. He breathes heavily, scrutinises the vision, tries to avoid the situation that is clear to all, not even sparing a thought on his time of glory. His best friend has evolved into a regular white butterfly, but that is not even close to being the grotesque situation at hand. His cocoon is open, but not in the natural opened-from-the-inside way; it has been opened from the outside by a green butterfly, standing close trying to explain why he had done so. Sometimes caterpillars going through the Changing needs a helping hand, and since the friend hadn't come out of his own yet, they had decided to help. The causes for these situations are usually that the adolescents are scared to come out or are shy. This situation, however, is one of the rarer kinds. When the cocoon had been opened, the white butterfly had simply fallen out instead of spreading its wings and flying into adulthood. The paleness and lack of colour indicates, that he had not been able to spread his wings, even if he had wanted to, when the cocoon opened. The shredded wings are too vicious-looking than they could have been, were it the fall that had done it. The evidence is clear, but he refuses to believe it. The white butterfly had been dead long before the cocoon had been opened.

The regular white dead butterfly had been known as the quiet but clever and always present supporter, saying the right things at the right times. He always put others before himself and based decisions on the benefits of his closest ones. No one had noticed the small signs of retreat and distance, as he had always had an introverted and quiet personality. In reality, where others saw shyness there was anxiety; where they saw silent calmness, there was a raging storm of self-hatred. The others's obliviousness to his misery had had everlasting consequences: the butterfly had in his loneliness and misunderstanding of his being taken his own life long before the cocoon had been opened.

Where his best friend had dreams of joining the shimmering stars, the white butterfly had a hollow void deep in his heart where dreams usually took place. His only reason for lasting as long as he did, was the friend's need of him. However, when they were separated, he started to realise that the other would not need him forever; he would start his own life, get other friends and live happily even if not perfectly. That was something the already suicidal butterfly could not imagine him ever doing. Thus the dark thoughts poisoned his mind, clouded his soul and corrupted his heart. He could not take it anymore.

 

~*~

 

The white butterfly had in an early age understood, the stars shining the brightest, were often the ones who had fought their way through the void; the dimmer stars, despite not having a longer journey, had learned their place and let others shine instead of them. He had also realised, after several years of oblivious neglect and imprisonment by his family, that he was one of those dimmer stars. He would never be strong enough to fight his way through the void filling his heart as the yeas went on, and he definitely wouldn't be able to shine as bright as his best friend, whose innocent dreams were unimaginable to him. Though his life had seemed as normal as the neighbour's, no one could imagine the thoughts of society's manipulation and his own abnormality going through the then caterpillar's mind. Though he was invited as everyone else, treated as everyone else, the loneliness was painfully inevitable. The bright youngling had gotten a habit of overanalysing, causing his abnormality to increase, at least in his own mind. Every touch, hesitation, choice of word and phrase construction were stored in his already filled mind for examination and never–ending questions of _why_. He was a quiet observer, specialised in connecting others' reactions to him and his being. Mostly, his thoughts were poisoned with negativity, causing the already lonesome caterpillar to feel overly alien, sometimes convinced that he was in fact a whole other being in his inability to connect with others and their emotions. His difference sometimes caused him to think of himself as sick or insane with a serious cause of psychological disease.

In the cocoon, he had come to the conclusion, being the sociopath he was convinced, he was, that no one would miss him, and he himself was the only thing standing in his way of reaching paradise (or hell, however he would end up). No one cared of his being, as far as he was concerned. Even if they did, it was only a show of decency, with no real emotions attached. His family and so–called best friend would be expected to be upset, but after the niceties, they would get over it and get on with their life. Even if they did muster to have the smallest form of affection towards him, they would not be so devastated as to not succeed in their own life.

Just as he had expected, there is a funeral for tradition's sake, with his family and best friend attending. They cry, continue with their life, and avoid the taboo of his suicide. No one notices a new star, shining brighter than all the rest with all the glory it didn't get to have in its former life.


End file.
